


Final Fall of the Pale Lady

by im_the_king_of_the_ocean



Series: The Fragility of a Suncatcher [5]
Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Angst, Character Study, Dark Past, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, INDEFINITE HIATUS, Illnesses, Injury Recovery, Other, Physical Therapy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Trust Issues, eventual mention of clairegana possession, nothing in life is easy, or barbara/morgana is endgoal for this fic, or this story will be digging into all the not so great things morgana has done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-10-05 12:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17324891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_the_king_of_the_ocean/pseuds/im_the_king_of_the_ocean
Summary: Morgana suspected, in the few moments she’d concerned herself with the idea, that her final resting place would be the Shadow Realm.In the direct aftermath of the Eternal Night, floating through the darkness, she believed perhaps that time had finally come.Until, she, severely weakened, fell back to Earth.  Then she thought her demise would be at a crossroads, also fitting.Except then she is found by the Trollhunter's mother of all people and the woman, for some unfathomable reason, refused to kill her.Now, trapped in the woman's home without magic, Morgana slowly begins to see the world in a way she hasn't legitimately considered for a very long time.





	1. Found

**Author's Note:**

> And here we go!
> 
> First really long story and I'm super excited for it :D
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

Morgana suspected, in the few moments she’d concerned herself with the idea, that her final resting place would be the Shadow Realm.She, of course, would never die.The very thought was absurd even to consider.She was the Pale Lady.Immortal.Invincible.Incredible.Even when she was trapped in Heartstone, she was alive.Waiting.Patiently biding her time.Planning.Plotting.

Merlin thought he’d won himself time with his little trap.It left him weak.Slumbering.Oblivious to the ages, while she watched civilizations rise and fall.It took her but a single century to craft the art of whispering.Let her pawns think their ideas were their own when, in truth, it was her voice that breathed their convictions into their ears.

Sure, Morgana’s physical form may be trapped, but it was her hand, her _remaining_ hand, that crafted the course of history.

Up until the moment when Gunmar, ever the faithful pet, freed her.Then, she gained the ability to take a more direct approach.

The Eternal Night had been splendid.Beautiful in its chaos.The world finally bending at the knees, _bowing_ , before her.Oh, how she had loved it.

It was a pity, without her there, Merlin would likely destroy her work.Daylight would shine again.

At least.Temporarily.

Morgana lived yet.It would take time, certainly, but she’d yet escape the Shadow Realm once more.All she had to do was wait.An opportunity would present itself.She’d bring about the Night Eternal once more.

Morgana closed her eyes.Not that fatigue had the capacity to affect her, but there was indeed merit in resting.

She did not see the rip in her dark reality open, but she did feel the prickle of chilly air disturbance as Earth’s gravity sucked her out of the Shadow Realm.She saw the stars and the moon streak above her in silvery marks across the sky.She gasped as the unforgiving, paved ground slammed the air from her lungs.

Morgana’s body heaved with the effort to inhale oxygen.She silently cursed.Oh yes.She’d return here one day, to this place, this _crossroads_ , and annihilate the harsh substance the humans had used in the road’s creation for even daring to become her adversary.

_Scrreeeech_!

The unfamiliar noise sounded somewhere up the road from Morgana.Yellowy-white light flickered and washed over her.Morgana struggled to turn her head.Her helmet scraped and sparked against the pavement.Morgana winced at the ugly sound.She stopped moving when she heard a _click_ and a quiet _whoosh,_ as if a door had been opened.That was preposterous.There could be no doors without buildings.

_Thump.Thump.Thump._

Soft footsteps approached her.The feet they belonged to halted by her head.

Morgana glared at those feet.They were wearing the most hideous, blue shoes imaginable.She wet her lips to speak, but no insult rose to her mind.She settled for a snarl, but it came out more like a groan.

Of all the enemies who had sought to end Morgana over the centuries, the one who would succeed just had to have horrible style.Truly, an insult to her very being.

The person crouched down by Morgana.She reached a hand out.Hesitated.

Morgana stared at that hand.The way the light played on it and concealed the joints of its long fingers in shadows.She wondered what it would feel like when it finally descended around her throat.

It didn’t.

Instead, it moved Morgana’s chin so she was facing the person’s face.A face she _recognized_.Not that she’d ever _seen_ it before, but she had _been_ it.Briefly.To tantalize one of her changelings with.The fact that it should be the last face she’d ever see was probably some kind of irony, but Morgana found her brain could not muster the proper comparison.

The mortal woman blinked down at her.An internal argument was brewing behind her blue eyes, though it was hard for Morgana to see them beyond her own, ( _not_ fearful) reflection in the mortal woman’s glasses.Morgana called for her magic.She desired to know what debate the mortal woman was having with herself.She _would_ know.

Morgana’s magic did not answer.

A growl rose in her throat.The mortal woman jerked back.Morgana’s lips twisted into a grin.So, she _did_ fear the sorceress she’d stumbled across?Good.

Morgana called for her magic again.Nothing answered but an echo of emptiness. 

The mortal woman returned to her side.She peered down at Morgana.Morgana perceived something absolutely infuriating, _pity,_ in her gaze.

Finally words came to Morgana.“What are you waiting for?”She hissed.“I am at your mercy.Finish this.”

“No,” Barbara Lake, mother of the Trollhunter, replied.“I don’t kill.Not even you.”

“What a pathetic stance.”Morgana chuckled, but her laughter died in her throat.A series of hacking coughs rose instead.She choked them back down.“You poor, little thing.So naive to think that if you spare me now, I’ll grant you the same mercy later.”

Barbara reached for Morgana’s shoulder.She took hold of it and pulled the sorceress up.“I’ll just have to take that chance, then.Now, come on.Let’s get you off the street.”

“No.”Morgana jerked out of Barbara’s grasp, and promptly slammed back down on the pavement.Her helmet reverberated, sending unpleasant vibrations into her head.She groaned.Regardless, she forced herself to speak, “I do not desire death, but it is a fate I’m willing to accept.”

“Okay.Let me spell this out for you,” Barbara stated sternly.“I may have been able to notice you lying here and have too much of a conscience to run you over, but the next person may not.I am _not_.”She punctuated her last word with a dramatic pause.“Going to let some poor soul, who likely just wants to get home, be on the hook for manslaughter just because you have a death wish.”She grabbed Morgana again.“We can either do this the easy way, where you come willingly and save us both a lot of time, or the hard way, where I drag you.You pick.”

When, after twenty minutes of dragging, Barbara finally shoved Morgana into the second seat of her carriage, Morgana told her, “I must commend you on your upper body strength.I did not believe one as yourself capable of such a feat as that.”

Barbara grunted and pressed something on the front of the carriage.Gentle music, likely from an installed, enchanted device like Morgana had seen in the bed chamber of Claire Nunez, began playing.

Morgana rested her head against the back of her seat.It was cushiony, and comfortable, but smelled strange.She didn’t recognize the leather it was crafted from.She’d have to take the time to learn the ‘modern’ advancements of this age if she were to survive, she realized.

Before, when Morgana remained trapped in Heartstone and her only means of operation was whispering, she’d relied on her operatives to know the best ways to use what was around them to complete their tasks.She hadn’t bothered herself in learning the particulars on how the world around them functioned.It would change soon enough as their era ended and the next began.It wasn’t worth the energy output on her part.

The carriage jerked around them, and rolled forward.

Morgana yelped.“What in Guinevere’s name, was _that_?!”

“I started the car,” Barbara said calmly.“To drive home.”

“But your horses, they must’ve run off when you stopped!You must go retrieve them!”Morgana had been looking forward to the reprieve of solitude.Not that it was worthy of great concern, but various parts of her body ached horridly.Staying with Barbara, _for now,_ was definitively her best option, but she’d like some time to strategize all the same.

“I don’t have horses,” Barbara told her.

“Ah, I misunderstood,” Morgana snapped.“Your carriage runs on magic.”

“No,” Barbara replied.“It doesn’t.It’s a car.”She paused.“You don’t know much about modern technology, do you?”

“Of course I do!”Morgana winced.Yelling sent a jolt of pain through her head, which only worsened her headache.“I was merely testing _you_ to ensure you are worthy of tending to me in this hour when I have need of assistance.Nothing more.”

“Sure,” Barbara’s tone indicated sarcasm, which frustrated Morgana, but she didn’t have the energy to do anything about it now.“Now I’m going to start the car again,” Barbara went on.“It’s going to move.Don’t freak out.You’re perfectly safe.”

Morgana turned her head away from Barbara, so the mortal woman couldn’t see that she’d closed her eyes.The ‘car’ didn’t _scare_ her with its absurd ability to move without horses or magic, she just needed to rest her eyes a moment.

* * *

When Morgana woke, everything felt lighter.It would have been nice if she didn’t immediately notice she was in a new location.So.She must have drifted off and Barbara must’ve taken her into her castle, after arriving there.Good to know.

Morgana looked around.She was in a Solar, clearly.Such a room as this, meant for comfort and relaxation, could be little else.It puzzled her that it was so near the entrance of the dwelling.There must be guards outside to keep out the commoners.Or spells.

Near the end of her time in Camelot, she herself replaced her entire armed forces with magical counterparts.Magic guards could not be swayed to join the side of Merlin, or the irksome king, Arthur.

It took some maneuvering, but Morgana managed to look out the window behind the cushioned seat she’d woken upon.No guards stood outside.Good.So, Barbara used magic to defend herself.Morgana could commend her on the effort.

It was bothersome that she couldn’t sense the spells cast, though.She’d like to know what they were before her own magic returned.

Barbara entered the room before Morgana could ruminate further.

“So, you’re awake,” Barbara spoke.She put down a couple of items on the table next to Morgana’s seat.“I examined your injuries.You’re lucky they’re not worse, but there’s still some that need bandaging.”She paused to give Morgana a pointed look.“Are you going to let me do that or are we going to have a problem again?”

“I must mean something to you if you are tending to me yourself instead of one of your physicians,” Morgana commented.She eyed Barbara, to see if she’d defend herself.It wasn’t quite an insult, but she’d work up to that.See how much provoking it took to undue the Trollhunter’s mother’s calm.

“I’m a doctor,” Barbara replied.“And I’m not taking you to the clinic.At least not yet.They have enough to deal with as it is.”She uncorked a bottle of something, but Morgana couldn’t read the label.It occurred to her the English language must have undergone a few changes since she read it last.

“Ah, you must think yourself noble for saving your servants from me.”Morgana snorted.“Consider it an offering of wisdom, but it is not wise to bring your enemies into your personal chambers and tend to them yourself instead of one of your stronghold’s healers.Upon our arrival, I expected you’d throw me in the oubliette, close the trap door, and leave me there to meet my end in the slowest, most excruciating way possible.Given, of course, that there’d be no other mortals around for you to feel guilty about leaving my fate in the hands of.”She laughed quietly.“You truly are a foolish woman, aren’t you?”

Barbara stared at her.Her brow furrowed in potential confusion, but all she responded with was, “I’m going to ignore all that.”Barbara wetted a cloth with liquid from the bottle she’d uncorked.“Now, this may sting a little.”She lowered her hand, with the cloth, toward Morgana and gently pressed it against a wound on Morgana’s arm.

Morgana yelped.She yanked her arm away.Where Barbara touched her, a lingering _sting_ remained.

Then, she saw.

“Where is my ARMOR?!”Morgana snarled.“You DARE remove it from ME?I DEMAND you return it at once or face my FURY!”She pushed herself as far back into the cushioned seat as she could.She needed distance.Barbara had _removed her armor._ Something no one dared even _touch_ for years even before her entrapment in Heartstone for fear of her retribution.She needed space.Time _._ The ability to strategize her retaliation.

Morgana glanced down at herself and saw in place of—what had she been wearing when she last put on her armor?She couldn’t recall.Regardless, in place of her own clothing, she was wearing a tunic with strange symbols on the front and an odd, thick type of leggings.

“You _DRESSED_ me?”Morgana snatched up a cushion.It wasn’t the best weapon, but it would have to do for now.

“Yes.”Barbara’s voice was a calculated calm.She stepped back to widen the space between them.“I needed to take off your helmet to check for head injuries,” Barbara went on.“The rest of your armor vanished when I removed it.”

Of course, the enchantment.Morgana relaxed.A little.Back when things had gotten ba—when she needed the ability to be prepared for battle quickly, she’d cast a spell on her armor.Like Merlin’s cursed Trollhunter armor, when not in use, it could be called from and returned to a smaller vessel in an instant.

Rather than a disgusting amulet, however, she opted to use her helmet itself as the vessel.The likeliness of an enemy having the opportunity to remove it from her person was near impossible.

Until now.

Morgana’s heart furiously beat against her chest.She told herself it was adrenaline.Not fear.Never fear.

“Look.”Barbara squatted beside the cushioned seat.“I only did what was necessarily.Beneath your armor, your clothing was in tatters.”She gestured to a pile of rags Morgana hadn’t previously noticed on the floor.“I was worried that, if I left them on you, whatever crap is on them would get into your injuries and infect them.I promise you, the only way I touched you was to get you in something clean and sterile and to put bandages on the worst of your abdominal wounds.That’s all.I promise.”

“A promise is a meaningless set of words meant to incapacitate someone so they render themselves defenseless prior to your next attack.”Morgana pressed herself back against the cushioned seat.Despite the fact pain blossomed all over her arms and shoulders as she moved them, she ran her hands over her chest and stomach.All she felt was the soft squish of fresh bandages.

She needed a plan.Her brain couldn’t think of one.She needed to flee this place.Her body hurt too much to run.

Morgana swallowed down her emotions and said, “However, since there is no evidence that you don’t speak true and you’ve had numerous chances to cause me harm and haven’t, I will offer you the benefit of the doubt.For now.”She caught Barbara’s wrist as the mortal woman reached for her bottle of medicine again.“Prove me foolish for doing so and I will ensure you have an excruciatingly painful and slow death.”

“If that means you’ll let me finish treating your injuries, fine.”

Morgana frowned at her.“You’d accept those terms despite them being detrimental to you?”

“Yes.”Barbara picked up her bottle and wet her cloth again.She looked to Morgana for permission before touching her.Morgana slowly nodded.Barbara continued talking as she disinfected the wound on Morgana’s arm, “I once took an oath to heal anyone in need.”She paused.“And you are far from the first frightened patient to threaten me because it makes you feel like you have a little more control.”

“I’m _not_ frightened.”

“It’ll be our little secret then.”Barbara went about her work.

Morgana kept every muscle in her body tensed and ready at first, but the longer things went on, the more she relaxed.She figured out Barbara’s rhythm of clean, disinfect, and bandage quickly and began predicting it.Bracing herself for it.Barbara’s touch was gentle and—no, _not_ ‘nice’.Nothing was ever nice.‘Niceness’ as a concept didn’t truly exist.

It had just been so long since Morgana had felt anything that wasn’t a knife trying to pierce her armor, a dvarkstone exploding against her chest, or someone’s fists pummeling into her.Gentle physical contact was a _curiosity_.Something her mind chose to focus on because it had no real point of reference for anything like it in a very long time.Nothing more.

When Barbara finally finished and gave her a soft pillow and thick blanket to help her sleep, Morgana felt it acceptable to offer the Trollhunter’s mother the words, “Thank you for not throwing me in the oubliette.”

After all, if Barbara _was_ trying to disarm her to leave her unprepared for a future attack, well, that was a game Morgana knew how to play.


	2. The Beginning of Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a surprise chapter a bit earlier than I expected to have it done. I sat down to write a little of this as a warm up and then the whole chapter just sort of came out, so that was fun :)
> 
> if you like this story, please don't hesitate in commenting. I love hearing from you guys!
> 
> Content Note: this chapter starts with Morgana physically being sick.

Morgana slowly, _tentatively_ , stretched out her leg.She winced.No, it wasn’t going to work.She could already feel her stomach churning.After the third time, she’d learned the signs.Getting up was a futile effort.She’d just be back on the ground not a second later, the former contents of her stomach splattering in every direction.

Shakily, she reached up to move her hair away from her face.The loose strands were slick with what remained of her meal, but it would make her feel marginally better if she didn’t get any more on them.

Then, _it_ happened.Morgana’s throat burned.She waited a minute before trying to move away from the smell.She tried her best not to _look_ at it.No, she wasn’t going to _name_ it.That would mean admittance that _it_ existed.Morgana may be many things—aching, queasy, slightly dizzy—but she would never admit to being so weak that she was _physically sick_.

Somewhere.Somewhere very, very far away, a door opened.

Barbara’s voice came through.“The basement door is to the left, after the kitchen.”Footsteps followed the words.Then, “Oh—oh my god, Mor— _Ana_?”

Something, some _one_ , loomed over Morgana.Morgana ignored her and wiped her mouth on the hem of her already-soiled shirt.

“Alright, okay.Okay.Give me a minute, then I’ll help you.”Barbara moved away.Morgana could vaguely hear her give directions to some servants she had with her.They were to take something she’d purchased through the garage into the basement.This would have been useful information to know, _at any other time_.Particularly because Barbara was clever enough not to allow her servants around Morgana.In the day and a half since her arrival, she’d seen absolutely none of them.

It made sense.Barbara must be aware of Morgana’s cunning and rightly assumed she’d use any opportunity to sway the staff’s loyalty in her favor.Morgana could respect that, even if it irked her.

“Alright, let’s get you up.”Barbara was back.She squatted down by Morgana, and reached out a hand her.

The sorceress shied away from the mortal woman.“I will no longer accept the aid of someone who attempted to _poison_ me.”

Barbara frowned.“I assure you I haven’t attempted to poison you.”She let out a huff.“And we’ve been over this already.If I did mean you harm, I would have acted already.Since I haven’t, maybe you can accept that I’m _not_ going to.”

“ _Lies,_ ” Morgana hissed.“The food you gave me did _this_ to me.What other purpose than _poison_ can there be?”

“The food?As in breakfast?”Barbara’s brows knit together in (false) concern.Amateur poisoners did not truly feel concern.That Morgana knew.So it _wasn’t_ true caring on Barbara’s face.

“Yes, _breakfast_ ,” Morgana snapped.“I _trusted_ you so I partook in the food you gave me.Not very long after, _this_ happened.”She gestured to the floor around her and the mess that existed there (she still refused to name it—naming things gave them power over oneself).

“I see.Hmm…”The way Barbara was attempting to pretend to consider things annoyed Morgana.It would be more honorable for her to just accept her failure instead of keeping up this farce.“Morgana,” Barbara slowly started speaking again.“When was the last time you ate something?”

“Breakfast, as you are well aware.”

“No, before that.When was the last time before I gave you food this morning that you ate?You slept through yesterday so it wasn’t then.And, before that…” Barbara looked to Morgana, as if expecting her to finish her sentence.

“I had much more important matters than _food_ to attend to, if that’s what you were asking.”

“I see.So, you haven’t eaten since before you were trapped in Heartstone, which was what?A couple centuries ago?”

Morgana shot a dark look at Barbara.“I have already told you.Do _not_ mention that vile rock in my presence.”

“Alright, alright.”Barbara attempted to pacify her while reaching out again.“Sorry.I’m just trying to figure out what happened here.”

Morgana stared at the hand Barbara outstretched to her, glanced up at Barbara’s face, and then turned her attention back to the hand.If this was a ruse, Barbara was a far more excellent actress than she’d initially believed.However, Barbara also seemed to be the only way off the floor.

Morgana put her hand in the offered one and allowed Barbara to help her up and move over to the table.

Once she had Morgana settled in a seat, Barbara went back into the kitchen.She continued to speak, “I should have realized this sooner.”Barbara put a rag under the sink’s faucet (Morgana would never admit to being curious about “indoor plumbing”, as it wasn’t wise to let on what one was thinking, but she was very indeed curious about how the system worked.She didn’t feel any residual magic coming off it…), dampened it, and brought it back to Morgana.

“I think you’re having trouble metabolizing food,” Barbara went on.“You haven’t eaten in so long, your body adjusted to going without while it’s been…” She gave Morgana a questioning look.“Living off magic?”When Morgana didn’t give her a response, she sighed.“Regardless of how you’ve survived this long, your body’s forgotten how to ingest food.So, when you tried to eat breakfast, it rejected it.Hence, all that.”Barbara gestured back to the kitchen.

That did arguably make sense.Sort of.Though, Morgana wasn’t going to _tell_ Barbara that.Or ask her to explain further.She should have realized her “food weakness” sooner and sought to take care of it on her own, without Barbara finding out.

“Can I?”Barbara held up her rag close to Morgana’s face in what Morgana had learned was her way of inquiring if she could touch her.

Morgana nodded.

Gently, Barbara wiped away the disgusting— _nameless—_ goop away from Morgana’s face.“Good news, though.Since I’m a doctor, I know how to help you.We’ll have to get you on a diet and slowly build up to eating normal foods again.”She finishes the task at hand.“The less good news, to get your hair clean, I’m probably going to have to wash it.Think you can make it upstairs to the bathroom?”

Morgana gulped.She didn’t want to admit that she still felt queasy, but if she didn’t, she would have to attempt to _walk up stairs_.

In the end, it didn’t really matter.Barbara read the unease in her facial expression.

“We’ll go slow.I’ll be right there beside you the whole time to help.”Barbara paused.“Also, I’ll bring a bucket.Just in case.”

Walking proved a difficult task.Halfway to the stairs, Morgana grabbed onto Barbara’s arm for support.At the bottom of the stairs, she was leaning on the mortal woman.Getting _up_ the stairs was a wobbly dance done between the both of them.If Morgana had more of a conscience (which she certainly didn’t), she would feel bad about some of the soil from her clothes rubbing off on Barbara’s.It was (not) relieving when Barbara told her that it was okay, she’d dealt with worse things at the hospital.

When it came to running the bath itself, Barbara hesitated.Morgana observed the mortal woman stare at the tub, something akin to _sorrow_ on her face, before filling it with water.

“I’ll get you a fresh set of clothes,” Barbara mumbled.“Think you can bathe on your own?I’ll do your hair afterwards.”

Morgana nodded.A part of her internally yelled out that Barbara was showing _weakness_ and she should make use of that.However, an uncomfortable feeling in her gut stopped her.

Barbara hadn’t actually tried to poison her.Therefore, she _shouldn’t_ use whatever discomfort Barbara had with her own bathtub (which was an odd thing within itself) against her.

When Barbara came back, she silently washed Morgana’s hair.Morgana closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of hands massage her scalp and the lightness of feeling that came with all the grease and filth washing away.

After the washing was done and Morgana was dressed again (in a comfy tunic and soft leggings), Barbara brought her into a bedchamber, where she sat Morgana down so she could comb and braid her hair.

Morgana gazed out the window as Barbara fought tangles.It would be easy to imagine being back, a long, long time ago, when it was someone she considered close enough to be a sister who braided her hair.She stopped herself.Such thoughts had long since become irrelevant.

“You can rest here for now,” Barbara told Morgana when she finished.“I have a couple more things to set up in the basement, but then it’ll be ready for you.”At Morgana’s puzzled expression, she added, “I thought you’d like a little more privacy than the couch, so I purchased a bed and made things into a room for you down there.”

“Then, what is _this_ room?”Morgana looked around.It was clearly a bedchamber.There was a wardrobe, and a vanity.Upon first entry, she’d assumed it was an unused space that Barbara intended for her.

Barbara replied, “My room.”

“You’re letting me rest in your bedchambers?”Morgana inquired.That made her feel something she didn’t know how to describe.

“For now.”Barbara shrugged.“Like I said, I’m not done setting things up for you downstairs, and this is a more comfortable place to rest than the couch.”She went to leave, and close the door behind her.“Get some sleep, Morgana.”

Morgana would like to say she didn’t, that she used this opportunity to find more information about Barbara, but her eyelids felt heavy.She was exhausted and she’d moved around so much already and the bed was so very soft.

* * *

Morgana didn’t wake up until halfway through the night, when moonlight streamed in through the window.Her mouth felt uncomfortably dry, her lips parched, and her stomach rumbled unpleasantly.She pushed herself up, paused to see if the earlier sickness would return, and, when it didn’t, stood.

Morgana walked out of the room and headed downstairs.Almost immediately, she spotted Barbara, on the couch, under the very same blanket she’d given Morgana for her first nights there.

She went over to the mortal woman, studied her sleeping form, debated whether she should take advantage of the opportunity, and ultimately decided against it.It would do no good to act against Barbara _now_ , while she still needed her.

“Barbara?”Morgana gently shook her awake.“I…I have hunger and you have knowledge on how I can eat without making myself ill.”

“Hang on, give me a sec to get up.”Barbara sat up and yawned.“I made some chicken broth for you earlier.”She led Morgana into the kitchen and opened what was clearly some kind of food storage that lit up upon its door being opened.Morgana wondered if the light were really on all the time or, if it came on, and, if so, how _that_ functioned.She didn’t ask.

“Here you go.”Barbara passed a bowl of broth to Morgana over the counter.“Sorry if it doesn’t taste great.I’m not exactly the world’s best cook like my…I’m not a good cook.”

“That’s acceptable.”Morgana said before she could stop herself.“I’m not either.”

“You?Really?I’d figure you’d just magic yourself an extravagant, gourmet dinner or something.”

Morgana chuckled.“No.Food, food is strange.It doesn’t obey magic.”She looked at her reflection in the soup.“Nothing I ever did could make it taste as good as what the cooks prepared themselves…” she stopped paying attention to her words as she gazed at herself.Was this really what she looked like?She knew her face, _knew_ these features; black hair, green eyes, strong cheekbones, pale skin.It had to be so.It _was_ so. 

Yet.Yet, it was so long since she’d since herself without her helmet.Without the golden armor blotting out all else.The person the broth reflected back to her wasn’t completely unfamiliar, but she wasn’t familiar either.

Morgana gulped down the rest of the broth.Not to get rid of the reflection.She was just very hungry.

Barbara yawned again.“Well, I don’t know about you, but I could use some more sleep.I’ll show you your new room.”

Later, despite being comfortable in a new bed in a significantly more private space (even if the basement did remind her of a prison cell to a degree), Morgana couldn’t get back to sleep.The reflected person kept appearing in her mind’s eye.

She knew who she was.She did.

Baba Yaga.The Eldritch Queen.Argante.

_The Pale Lady_.

So, why couldn’t she recognize herself?

Morgana clenched her hands into fists.Her left hand, her hand of jade, cracked.A long crevasse opened and ran directly across her palm.Morgana ran her right index finger over it.Despite not having much feeling in the jade, she could still feel how deep it went.

Without magic, she couldn’t fix it.


	3. A Lady's Machinations

Morgana carefully unwrapped the bandages from around her jade hand.With each layer’s removal, yet more greenish-gray dust fell away.Morgana tried to ignore her apprehension, but she wasn’t successful in the endeavor.

Her breath caught in her throat when the last of the bandages finally slipped off.Her hand was still there, thankfully.Morgana turned it in front of her eyes, examining the cracks that now ran completely over it.The one from her first night in the basement remained the deepest, but there were a few others that were getting close. 

So.Wrapping it up hadn’t worked.

Morgana gently rested her jade hand in her lap.She refused to let herself feel disappointed.She knew the likeliness of success had been slim.Yet.Yet, she’d _hoped._ Despite knowing hope itself was worthless.

No one knew (because she had never told anyone), her jade hand meant quite a bit to her.The false story she had given quite freely, mostly as an intimidation tactic, was that she’d cut it off herself to replace with magically conductive stone.Those who she raised her left hand to should cower at the ruthless might (tenfold to what she normally had) that would be soon directed toward them.

The true story was that her left hand had been taken from her in a merciless act of betrayal.Her jade hand had been her gift to herself.Her way of recovering.Her way of telling herself the loss of her original hand didn’t matter.She was stronger. _Better_.A part of her was now made of valuable stone and magic.What could be superior to _that_?

Morgana tried bending her jade fingers.They barely responded.New cracks ran across them and more dust fell.She stopped the attempt.Soon, she didn’t know _how_ soon, but soon all the same, the hand would completely disintegrate.Without magic flowing in to maintain it, there would be nothing to hold it together.

Morgana reached out to the faint, lingering tendrils of magic she felt emanating from the jade.They didn’t respond to her.Not like they should have; eagerly, _hungrily_.Magic always responded to her.It, more than anything else, was always eager to serve her.

Something twisted in her gut at its rejection.

Footsteps echoed overhead.The basement door opened.Morgana jerked her jade hand away, out of sight.Despite the new damage the swift action caused, she wrapped it up in the sheets and shifted her body to be between it and her visitor.

By the time Barbara reached the bottom of the stairs, Morgana had put on an appearance of ease.Barbara studied her, but Morgana had perfected the art of facades long ago.There was nothing there to hint that anything was wrong.

“I brought you lunch.”Barbara set her tray down on the table next to Morgana’s bed.She glanced at the IV stand, also next to the bed.Her gaze followed its tube line to where it ended near Morgana’s pillows.Barbara sighed.“What have I told you about removing your IV?”

“I don’t like it.”Morgana huffed.This was an old argument.One Barbara should have _let go of_ by now.Sure, Morgana had felt nauseous once, but that had been _a couple days ago._ Certainly, she didn’t still need the supplements the strange “IV” pouch supposedly gave her.It just looked like water in there anyway and Morgana could _drink_ that.

“Give me your arm.”Barbara snapped.When Morgana acquiesced (when the doctor was in this sort of mood, it was best to just go along with her), Barbara began the process of putting the IV back in.

“Do you want to dehydrate?Faint again?Because that’s what’ll happen if you don’t get enough fluids.”Barbara sighed.“I get that you don’t _like_ any of this, but I’d think you would at least _try_ to get better.”

“You seem very eager to see me well for someone who I could easily destroy when I’m in my prime.”Morgana watched Barbara tape the IV down to her good arm again.She _didn’t_ wince when Barbara applied much more pressure than she had last time.“It’s peculiar really.That it doesn’t suit you to keep me in this weakened state.”

“I’ve told you.I’m a doctor.Helping people get better, even if they don’t deserve it, is part of my job.Now, I have to go to work.When I come home, the IV better still be in or there’ll be consequences.”

“Oh, such as?”

Barbara smirked.She leaned forward, and in a hushed tone, told Morgana “I could make you eat nothing but mushed up carrots this week.”

“You _wouldn’t_.”

“Is that really a risk you want to take?”Barbara took a step toward the stairs.“I’ll be back later.”

Morgana waited until she heard Barbara’s footsteps leave the house and the sound of the car driving away.Then, she got up.She debated, but left the IV in and grabbed onto its stand to move with her.

There were fates worse than death and then there was Barbara’s cooked carrots.One was tolerable.The other, not so much.

But, if Morgana _was_ going to slip out of both her IV situation and the cooked, orange nightmare possibility, she was going to need something.Something _usable_.Against Barbara.

The doctor surely had secrets.Everyone did.Morgana just had to find them, and, luckily, she knew _exactly_ where to start looking.

It was more difficult than Morgana initially thought to move the paintings lining walls of the basement.They were a bit heavier than expected.Her good arm screamed out at her with the strain of dragging them on all its own, but she didn’t dare even try to use her jade hand for the job.Morgana only managed to get a few of them moved into view before she had to sit down and catch her breath.

While she did, she examined them.They were crude.The work of a novice at best.Barbara was certainly no master.It hardly mattered.Morgana had little interest in appraising the doctor’s _skill._ No, what she wanted from the paintings wasn’t knowledge on their composition alone.It went past that. _Deeper_.

Why had Barbara painted them?Why had she chosen these specific subjects?There was the obvious, trollish connection, but there had to be more to it than that.There had to be a _true_ reason.A hidden driving force behind the compositions.Almost every artist Morgana knew in her time had had a motivation _why_ they depicted what they did.

Morgana gained her first clue of it when she found the massive piece of Stricklander.Its size and intensity separated it from all the others.Definitively, it held more importance to Barbara. Yet, its mood was angry, _harsh._ It was hidden, in the corner, behind so many others.

Interesting.

From the mind of Stricklander himself that one time, Morgana knew he practically _ached_ for the doctor.His desires for Barbara had screamed out to Morgana loud and clear when she’d probed.It would be curious if the dear doctor returned them.Even more so if she didn’t.

Morgana settled back into bed.She needed to rest if she was going to carry out the plot forming in her mind.

* * *

“Why?”

“Why what?”Barbara continued dressing Morgana’s wounds with fresh bandages.

Morgana watched the doctor’s hands work.They were quick, efficient.Replace ointments and gauze with a poison dagger and, well, this wouldn’t be the first time Morgana considered turning a healer into an acolyte.

Perhaps things would even go differently this time.The few physicians she’d been able to sway in the past hadn’t truly been motivated past coin.Thus, when their usefulness ran out, Morgana had had to dispose of them (continuously bribing them wasn’t a sound strategy in the long term, as it tended to strain her coffers).Which was, if Morgana was going to be completely honest with herself, a waste of a good resource.

But, Barbara wasn’t tending to her for monetary reasons.She got absolutely nothing from this.So, perhaps.

“Why,” Morgana repeated, turning her full attention to observing Barbara’s face for responses. _Tells_.“Do all this?”

“I’ve told you.I’m a doctor.I will not be responsible for your death.This is what I do.No matter the person.”It was a well-rehearsed, repetitively-stated, _bland_ response.

“Yes, that motivation is quite reasonable.”Morgana articulated her words slowly.There were no hints of change on Barbara’s face.No clues to something else, something _deeper._ Morgana pushed further.“But, despite your lack of staff here, you have allies.You saved me seven days past because you were the one who found me and you did not wish to lay my demise on anyone else.You healed me the first days because your efforts would have been in vain otherwise.We are beyond that.In my current condition, I may not be healthy, but I can be moved.”Morgana sat up.“So, tell me, _Barbara_ , why do all this?”She leaned forward, though it pained her.“Why keep me secret when you could pass me onto your allies?”

“Who said I’m keeping you a secret?”The tell is in the twitch of Barbara’s hands.How she dropped a tube of disinfectant ointment and scrambled to pick it up.

Morgana smirked.“You keep me here.You bring equipment to me.”She gestured to the IV stand.“When it so clearly belongs somewhere else.Would it not be better to simply deliver me there?Unless, of course, you have reason to ensure no other soul knows of my presence.”She puts a hand over Barbara’s, stopping her action.“You have no need to fear.Many before you have seen the sensibility in vowing themselves to me.You have done very well so far.Would you like me to show you more?”

“No.”There’s a clip to Barbara’s voice.She stood.

Morgana noted these actions.So.She’d pressed a little too hard.She’d have to be careful now.

“I do all this,” Barbara started her repetitious answer again.“So no one else has to deal with you.”She turned on her heel to go.“There is no other reason.”

“In that case, I commend you on your efforts.”Morgana placed the words cautiously.One conversation was seldom enough, but sprinkle the right crumbs and they did tend to follow the path back.“Perhaps, as _a show of my gratitude_ , I could show you a few things?”

“I told you, I have no interest—”

“In magic?Yes, you’ve made that quite clear.I should have been more specific,” Morgana interrupted.“I may not know much of the culinary arts myself, but I know enough to recognize a terrible lack of skill.In my time, I did dabble in creating my own meals.Perhaps I could show you a thing or two in _that_ area?”

* * *

“NO!”Morgana slammed her good hand down on the counter (her jade one was carefully concealed in the “sweatshirt” Barbara had given her).“ _Not_ like that!The pieces need to be _smaller_ , and more _square_.Throw it all away and _start over_.”

Barbara huffed.“I’m _not_ going to do that.Firstly, because I don’t want to.Secondly, because this is the _last_ of the onions, since you made me throw all the others out.”In a significantly louder tone, she added, “I don’t see how cutting them into impossibly perfect shapes will help bring out the flavor anyway!”

Oh, it wouldn’t.At least Morgana didn’t think it would.It was just, soon after their little culinary adventure had started, Morgana realized Barbara, at least in this area, was willing to listen and take orders from _her_.Who could blame her for taking advantage, really?

Morgana pressed her lips together.“Oh, alright, I suppose that’ll do.”She gave Barbara a coy smile.“Unless you’d like to call a friend over for a second opinion?Stricklander, perhaps?Out of all the changelings, I believe, he was perhaps one of the most inclined to cook.”

“Really?He never said.”Barbara’s tone, and posture, relaxed.She almost smiled.

So, there _had_ been something there.Morgana sipped the tea Barbara had made for her before they’d begun cooking.“Of course, he was the most skilled in the _poisoning_ department specifically.Other than myself, I don’t believe I ever met anyone so capable of sneaking a little something into a person’s drink without them noticing.”She put her tea cup down with a light _clink._

Barbara flinched at the movement.She almost cut herself with the knife she’d been chopping with.She swiftly put the blade down.

Morgana internally praised herself for this idea.It had been a guess, but it had played out wonderfully.The pieces of the story were coming into focus.

Stricklander had desires.He also had cunning.It would make sense if he used the latter to acquire the former.Sure, Morgana didn’t precisely know _how_ he’d gone about trying to obtain Barbara on his own, other then, perhaps, a little poison (quite frankly, he’d have been better off and _successful_ if he’d just given in to her that one time).Regardless, she’d gleaned his actions had hurt Barbara.And, if Morgana knew one thing about hurt, it paved the way to _weakness_.

“Look, it’s just simpler if I don’t tell him— _anyone—_ about you yet.”Barbara’s words interrupted Morgana’s thoughts.

“And why is that?”Morgana advanced on her.She restrained herself from smirking.She knew the signs.Barbara was breaking.“What do you possibly have to gain from keeping me secret from your allies?” She purred.“Unless, you don’t know if you can trust them?They hurt you.They _lied_ to you, didn’t they?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I show you how to make a _good_ meal as a show of gratitude.You can trust _me_.”Morgana circled.“I’ve seen your paintings.Fractured images of a mind that barely grasps the truth.Tell me, do you know the full story?”

“I—”

“You don’t, do you?You just follow them, hoping that they’re right.Have you truly considered how powerless that makes you?A pawn.Easily sacrificed.Easy manipulated.”Morgana’s eyes watched Barbara carefully.She was treading into delicate territory now.“The tragic part is you don’t know the half of it.You flounder in the dark, hoping for someone to lead you.You can’t even conceptualize the notion that they will use you.Unless.You take power for yourself.Go beyond their control.”

Morgana stopped by Barbara.She stroked the doctor’s hair away from her face.“To protect yourself, of course.I may know very little about you, Barbara.But, I am able to see when one has been hurt.”She paused.“Now, be truthful with me, would you like me to show you how to retake control? _Autonomy_?”

“I—”

“Vow yourself to me and I will gladly give you invincibility.”Morgana tilted Barbara’s chin up so they were gazing at each other.“Vow yourself to me and I will make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

For a second, it looked like Barbara was going to say something.Then, she swatted Morgana’s hand away and marched out of the room.Distantly, Morgana heard a door slam.She sipped her tea again.

All things considered, not a bad start.


End file.
